Endurance
by Tigerdust
Summary: Xander and Angel future fiction, however this Xander's not going to fall quietly. I wrote the lyrics inside the song!fic. Expanded author's note at the end. Chapter 2 added.
1. Chapter 1

I can't let Xander know that I'd do anything to keep him from going back to Sunnydale. It's not his fault really. I don't think either of us expected what happened. When I think back to the choice I made because of him…well, let's just say that I won't be telling him anytime soon. Of course, I have to offer up something or he's going to get suspicious.

_The preacher used to say we were headed for the end of days_

_The world would be so cold and the children turn away_

Xander's one of those rare people that can talk for hours on end and actually say something in the process. He has lots of things he needs to get off his chest and not many people he can say them to. Sure, he had Willow. But she knew him too well and I don't blame him for wanting to talk to someone a bit more objective. I think I was more hesitant in the beginning; however, looking back on that first night I should have known something was going to be different.

_Well, I know that's just not true_

_Cause I'm standing here watching you_

I often forget that people are unnerved by my ability to smell them before they descend on the elevator. It's a complicated enhanced vampire thing. Doyle came down with him at first and I almost didn't recognize Xander when I looked up from my book. I was startled at the man I saw before me. But his scent was so skittish and hesitant. I could feel the very weight of his soul in the room. Which was strange, considering how guarded he'd always been around me. Not that I had given him reason to trust me. I didn't expect to earn it either. But I knew that he would just take time. The hell mouth does odd things to mortals and demons alike.

_Trusting you, needing you_

"Xander."

He had extended his hand uneasily, cheerfully, and for the exclusive benefit of Doyle's presence. I wondered for a moment how he had avoided Cordy's tentacles. "Hey, Dead boy."

There was that name, but without his usual bitter cut of the tongue. Something made him uneasy about being here. Whatever it was must have taken him so much courage. And, in reality, it had. I sent Doyle away and he pulled up a chair.

"Nice digs."

"You seem nervous." I stated.

"Me, nervous?" Xander began to babble unapologetically. "Why would I be nervous? I mean, I know that you're a good guy now. Or at least you want redemption, which is a great start. I know that I should have apologized for all the anger and stuff on the Hellmouth but there was Anya and you were here and it seemed like it wasn't the appropriate time. I figured with the whole private investigator thing you'd have to invest in phrases like "dame" and get some black and white filters so it could be all movies like and maybe the Irish guy could call you Sam Spade or something like that…."

I cleared my throat. If you don't clear your throat, then Xander has a tendency of going a bit into oblivion with his thoughts; even if he does make something of a point.

"Sorry. I just thought I needed to drop by and see an old friend."

"We were never really friends."

"Compatriots then? I mean, we had something in common."

Buffy is the first thought that came to my mind. That was really ever the only thing. Xander would have tried to stake me over and over again in any other circumstances. The boy always seemed keen to grow and adapted remarkably. I don't think he would have handled hearing that I was proud of him. Seeing Xander crumble would have been a bit much to bear, I think. "Compatriots then. And don't think I'm not glad to see you, but I have to wonder why you're here."

_You take the shadows and the gray from my eyes_

_Make all the disturbances run from my life_

"I was just passing through and I had a kind of personal question for you." Xander began to look around as though the Council was going to swoop in upon us.

"Is there a demon you need help with? You could have just called."

Xander mumbled a bit. "I didn't want to do this over the phone."

"Is Buffy alright?" My voice filled with a sort of tension. I knew she had, for all effective purposes, beaten an Elder vampire, an unencumbered Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, a woman who I'm not sure was a goddess, a variety of demons and demonic cults. What exactly was there that she wouldn't be able to face, Hellmouth wise?

_Those memories of pain that I inflicted_

_Mortal child, if I could only say_

"Buffy's fine. It's the rest of us I'm worried about. Since Willow resurrected her…" Xander's nervous levels ran to uncharted territories.

"That's pretty advanced magick. I would almost say it's too risky."

Xander winced. "Yeah, well, we didn't know that was the plan until mid-ceremony, but that's a story for another time. No, this is something I did recently. I know I should have learned my lesson after the whole love spell debacle, but I thought…hey...this is alright. This is a demon specializing in song and dance. What's the worse that could happen?"

_Instead of being addicted_

_You've given me the thing I prayed for each day_

My voice cracked. I couldn't help it. "You summoned Sweet?!"

Xander gulped, his eyes going kind of wide. I imagined that, in any other circumstance, he wouldn't look like a ten year old at the principal's office. I was beginning to wonder if he was about to confess and ask for penance. I was also still unclear as to why exactly he'd come to me. "You met him?"

I nodded. "You know, he's the reason we had the Great Chicago Fire. That cow wasn't to blame. It was that damn Irish fiddle he handed Bessie's farmer."

"That would have been good to know."

"Xander, if you're coming to ask for forgiveness, you don't need to come to me."

_When they say we leave with nothing_

_I can say now that's not true_

Xander shrugged. "I know, but the summoning wasn't because he was a demon. I proposed to Anya and I was…"

Ah. There it was. "You're pretty young to be thinking long term with an ex-demon."

Somewhere, Xander's backbone popped out. "I'm not that young."

I put my hands up in defensive apologies. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it came out. Please, continue."

_Because even in that last moment_

_I can thank God for you_

Xander nodded. "Ummm…I just thought it would be a good idea to get the truth, you know, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I got so much truth that I felt like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men. Now, I know I love her, but…."

"It takes a great level of maturity to recognize what you're feeling, even if you can't identify it."

_Helper in redemption, Child of affection_

His voice sounded smaller, deflated. As though he had sighed and exhaled a giant boulder. "Thanks, Angel. But what I was hoping is that maybe you could give me some insight on long-term relationships. My parents make your twisted family look almost tame and I know that a lot happened that you're not proud of, and rightly so. But I just thought…"

I nodded in response. "I'll tell you what you'd like to know, but you may not like to know it. There aren't any guarantees in relationships Xander. I mean, I staked my sire for Buffy. I turned Drusilla after driving her mad. Yes, we had common interests in our need to satiate our lust and greed, but those common interests can't hold you for long. You have to grow together and getting my soul back forced us all apart."

Xander gulped. "So what happens to me and Anya then?"

I shrug. "I can't say. But I know that you always took a lot onto your plate and if I can help in any way…"

Xander took a moment, looked down at himself and then stared straight at my nose, almost afraid to look in my eyes. "I know that you don't have much room, but I just don't want to….I mean I know it would be an imposition but I need…."

"Some air."

"Exactly."

"I don't have any food either than my blood, Xander. Cordy might, but I think she's just making a show of it. Doyle might have an extra couch…"

"No! I mean, I'd just feel more comfortable in the Angel cave."

"The what?"

"It's a Batman thing."

The world of Xander's never-ending pop-culture references. "Ah." I can't thing of anything cleverer to say. What? It can't all be introspective sound byte quotes. "I'm willing to offer you any help you need Xander."

Xander reached his hand across the table again and I received it gratefully. I wouldn't have to apologize around him for being myself and just maybe I could use a partner for tai chi every now and then. If he'd consider it. "Thanks Angel. I'll try not to make these weekends too routine. If it's too much…"

I shrug. "It's a big Angel cave."

Weeks turned to months, new friends and threats came and went. Los Angeles is a never-ending tumult of people and things. Xander's weekends became a nearly monthly tradition. Anya eventually figured it out, but let her jealousy subside when he assured her (and then I assured her) that it was nothing sexual. Well, on his end at least.

_I'll endure this hell for you_

_There's just nothing I can do_

When we moved to the Hyperion, Xander found his place there to. On the weekends he visited, I found myself walking by his room and hearing his heart beat. I could always smell cocoa and sawdust on the air, all around him. Quite an attractive scent to go with the new body. He was gaining confidence again and I could see in his eyes a need to be useful to someone other than the Scoobies. He found that here too.

We were walking through the basement tunnels one evening, when he noticed a distress in one of the beams. He made a couple of remarks and then I found tools lying around. I'd hear the buzz saw at three in the morning. He doesn't know that I just watch him work, sometimes in silence and sometimes to the sound of Pat Benatar being whistled. He loves to whistle Devo and Tainted Love as well. I think those are his favorites.

_In this dark and twisted world I made for me_

_You erased my fears so easily_

He has two tank tops, one grey and the other white. They don't sweat very often and I find it endearing that he's so focused that he never notices the dust and white specks flying all over the place and catching in his hair. But I only watch, never fiddling with his hair or technique. Here, Xander has found somewhere to be the master and this place needs him almost as much as I.

I never thought I'd say those words. I need Xander Harris. True, I have lots of girls fawning all over me and Spike is still around. There are always new champions coming around and old ones dying or finding new paths. Xander's pretty constant thought.

_And you probably don't know _

_You don't quiver when I'm near_

"You know, Dead boy, if you're going to just stand in the shadows, you could hand me a hammer or something." He says it so casually, as though he always expected me to be there.

"I wouldn't know a thing about tools. I can tell you about all the weapons though."

"Yeah, well, this is me doing the math I never thought I'd need. I have to say though; this old girl's pretty sturdy." Xander looks up at the bottom of the hotel's first floor.

"She needed you to come." I smile warmly and Xander nods. He doesn't even blush like he normally would.

"I never say thank you, Angel."

"You don't have to. It's more mutual than you'd know."

Xander just nods in his own way. There's not really pity in the nod. It's more of a sad understanding about loneliness and the cycle of time. I know he won't be around forever and that he would turn down any offer I'd make. Although, at this rate, it's almost…never mind.

He turns from his work. "Angel? Would you mind getting the carpenter a bit of water?"

I nod and then turn toward the stairs. "I'll use your usual mug."

"Thanks Angel."

_So I'll endure a living hell_

I don't want to turn back to see if he's watching me go. I say a silent prayer that maybe he is. That just maybe he wants to be here and that it's not just habit. He makes my solitude a lot less lonely than it used to be. I could never repay Alexander Harris for all he's done for me.

_If just in gratitude, you're here_

Author's Note: I wrote the song lyrics here for "I'll Endure". This fic is dedicated to pyro_padawan as a half fic bunny to go with the "Passions of Angels and Demons" written by pyro and a little bit post Once More, With Feeling. I hear Angel singing it while watching Xander work (does it sound a bit like the Giles solo from Once More to anyone else?). I'd like thoughts, if there are any to be had. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Xander had been sneaking. That was his own terminology for what he was doing in Los Angeles. Buffy and Willow had moved with Giles to Cleveland. He just had too many painful memories with them. In their faces he saw Anya, Tara, and just too much lost. Xander didn't consider himself innocent by any means, but whatever innocence hadn't been stripped by Tony Harris had been raped from him by that dinky little crater of a former town.

Xander sat in the dark in the little out of the way bar in Los Angeles. How long had it been since the weekends at the Hyperion had stopped? The last time he had come there had been no Angel. Gunn had used all sorts of euphemisms and Wesley had twittered his thumbs and basically done flamenco dances all around the subject. Cordy was gone, unable to offer any advice.

So even when Angel had handwritten him an apologetic invitation, Xander still hadn't come. It was enough for him to be in the same city with Angel. It was enough to have a dirty little hotel room and a wobbly bar stool and poor lighting. It was enough being at Winchester. Winnie's, as the locals affectionately dubbed it, was a mixture of places for different fringe communities. Wannabe vampires, actual demons, and everyone in-between came here.

If you asked Xander, he was hoping to be found. He wanted to looked Dead boy straight in the eyes. He wanted to get angry at someone for everything, for all the confusion added to his teenage years. He hadn't grown up properly, he knew too much. He had knowledge he didn't want. But it was there, lodged in his brain. Xander could tell who was a demon by the way their fingers coiled around their selection of drink or even by which night they showed up on.

He had been at Winnie's on occasion when the cowboys had come rattling through. They leased the bar once a month and did line dance lessons. Xander did not participate, but he watched the poetry in motion of shirtless cowboys with a sort of fascination that denoted his new attitudes towards sexuality. That was, once again, something he could thank Angel for. Not that Xander fancied Angel. No. It was Captain Forehead's fault that Xander would allow himself to think in such terms.

But he knew that Angel was too infamous. He knew that he couldn't hide behind the low bar lights or the whiskey sour. Eventually, word would get back. Xander's teeth even ached for that knock-down, drag-out verbal brawl the pair would have. He didn't want to speak to Angel ever again after that. He wanted to move to Canada, bathe in the snow. Alexander Harris wanted to forget everything.

So, he waited. He knew the gossip chain of the bored demons of Los Angeles. Whether or not they believed the claim on Angel's soul, and more often than not they found it to be irrefutable, Xander carried the scent of the Order just having been around some of the other members. He was leprous with the scent, tainted with a paradoxical view of both the human and the world beneath it.

It wasn't a surprise to Xander Harris when Angel did show up one night. His face was either pained or far from amused. Either way, the scowl satisfied something dark within Xander's own soul to make Angel suffer. Perhaps it was a sexual repression. For Xander Harris, the sexuality of the self was not the important distinction in this case. That box of skeletons could wait to be opened a little while longer. He was satisfied enough to see Angel in torment.

Angel stood there, watching as Xander swaggered over. It was clear that he wasn't drunk, merely enraged. Angel could see the tantrum brewing behind Xander's eyes. Angel sighed, believing that this was truly his lot in life.

"Dead boy, you're late." Xander spoke first, his voice thick with tension.

"I hate it when you call me that."

"I know." Couples danced around them, oblivious to the vampire and the man.

"Any particular reason why you didn't respond to my letter?"

Xander cocked his head. "You sent me mail?"

Angel nodded. He knew damn well that Xander had received the letter. He'd made sure the postal carrier was a trusted friend. "I missed our weekends together."

This was the moment Xander had been waiting for. "Is there something else at the Hyperion that needs fixing?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't live there anymore. Ever since Conner…"

Xander nodded. "Yes, your son with Darla that one that was kidnapped. Oh. I've been filled in."

Angel's eyes widened a bit with exasperation. "You've visited the team?"

"And swore them all to secrecy."

Angel was bewildered. "Why?"

"Because, at some point, we've both got to grow up Angel. I can't keep hiding behind your shadow and you can't keep hoping I'll love you. You think I'd love a vampire that could…wait; you think I'd love a vampire."

"We're more than that. And you know it." Angel's voice was soft, but confident and defiant of the insinuation he was making. Xander was treading on dangerous ground.

But, then again, Xander knew Angel couldn't do anything about it. "Really? So, you're going to tell me that you can just miss a meal or two and eat a jelly doughnut and there'll be no repercussions for it?"

"You're being irrational." This was not the reunion Angel had planned. _Then again_, he thought, _when has anything I've wanted come to plan?_

"Somebody has to be!" Xander was pointing to himself, the fight within him becoming hysterical. "I can't always be the one changing and becoming a better man. At some point, we become who we are."

"And who is it you've become? Someone better than the Slayer or the vampire with a soul; Someone too good to save the world? Is that all Xander Harris is now? Is that all Alexander wants to be?"

Xander hissed. "I swear to God, if you say my full name again…"

"You'll do what? No, you enjoy hurting me too much to stake me." Angel was trying not to tear up, but Xander's hysterics were infectious. Just like his laughter used to be. Angel wondered, almost aloud, what had happened to destroy that carpenter he loved so much. "I wish you'd tell me why."

"Fine. It's because I'm the Zeppo. Because they assumed all I ever wanted to do was be a Scooby. Because they thought Cleveland was the best city in the world to relocate to. Because they thought evil was something that we had to fight twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Well, what about work? What about Xander?"

"No one made you go."

"But no one stopped me!" Angel just looked at Xander. He had stopped quivering and pacing about. "If someone had stopped me…"

"I would have asked you to stay. Angelus wouldn't have."

"How do you know?" Xander snarled.

"Because we've been locked in battle for the better part of three centuries. So you say that you didn't want to go. But you went. Why would you go unless you wanted to be wanted?"

"You're missing the point here, Dead boy." Xander couldn't muster pain in the inflection anymore. His tirade had run out of gas.

"I don't think I am. What if we wanted the same thing?"

"And what exactly was that Angel? A perfect, happy ending? I've seen how that plays out with you."

Angel shook his head. "Not an ending, a real beginning."

Xander snorted. "You've read too many fairy tales."

"And you haven't read enough. Cordelia tells me that I could become a Champion. She says they're considering wiping my slate clean."

"And then what? They'll just let you go. They'll just let the vampire with a soul be free to love and live without the burdens…"

"You don't have any faith in them."

Xander shrugged. "No, I don't. They took Anya. They killed Tara. They made me fall in love with a variety of demon women and then looked the other way when I performed a love spell that nearly had me mated with Drusilla. Now, am I getting something wrong in assuming they don't have my best interests at heart?"

Angel couldn't believe it, but he was about to defend the Powers That Be. "You act as though you didn't make those choices."

"They didn't stop it. It's the same damn thing to me."

Angel reached out, touching Xander on the shoulder for the first time in a very long stretch. "Come with me, Xander."

Xander shrank away from the arm. "Get away from me, Dead boy. I don't need you, I don't want you."

Angel held his arm out as Xander walked back to his stool, threw some money down, and then made a big show of leaving with his coat. Angel sighed, waiting five minutes and then following Xander out the same exit. _This is my lot in life_, Angel thought, _to chase after the weary and pained. Why does it always have to be him?_ Angel knew that he'd be waiting when the key went into the lock of Angel's new home. Xander Harris would be there. He was too passionate a man to disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

Angel wasn't sure how long he had slept, which should have been the first indication that something was amiss. Ever since awaking with a soul and some form of amnesia that had fled soon enough after, Angel had been very light with the sleeping. He envied those of deep slumber because he felt that he was never more than a suspended time with eyes closed from immortal insanity. What woke him though was the sound of tapping.

He tried to identify it without sight first. It lacked the rhythm of a dripping faucet. Then he could smell someone as well, a sign that didn't point to good either. He didn't trust the scent, even if the familiarity of Xander was in it. It could have been Buffy or Willow or....

"So, Dead boy, are you gonna sleep all day? Because, let me tell you, you don't win the game by sleeping through it."

Angel felt groggy, as though he could possibly still be asleep. But Xander's voice was across the room. "Xander?"

"That's correct." It was Xander's voice, but Angel felt something in his voice just wasn't right. It was dark and angry, no babbling wisdom or lighthearted insecurity to be found.

Angel sighed as he opened his eyes, noting the ceiling. "You came back."

Xander cracked a horrifying smile. "I'm not sure if you'll be so happy about that in a moment."

Angel sat up, puzzled. "Why?"

Then he understood. He was caged in his own bedroom. Xander was sitting in a plush red chair, seemingly so bored that he was biting his fingernails or possibly sharpening them. The room was lit only by a few shadows. But even then, Angel could make out the bars. He wasn't tied down, though, so this could still be some sort of game. Spike loved games like this.

"You know, next time I spike your blood supply, I'm gonna make sure I go easier on the stuff."

"You spiked my blood supply?!" Angel tried to fight some of the panic riding in his voice. He was out of touch with the Angelus portion of himself. Maybe it wasn't so prudent to pride himself on that.

Xander nodded. "Just this week's. I figured that by next week, either you or the guy that delivers it will be dead."

It was full of such calm fury, the way Xander talked, as though he were mere inches from the point of explosion. Angel knew the sound, he had heard it in his own throat more times than he cared to state. "You might want to think about this. You're not a killer or a madman."

Xander sighed, rising. "Of course I'm not. That's exactly the image you have of me. This doe-eyed, straw-brained fifteen year old yearning after a Slayer. I can't shake it, can't fight against type, and I can't run from it. So, maybe that Xander wouldn't kill you, you're correct."

"What's happened to you? Is this about what happened at the club? If you just want space..."

"Would you listen to yourself trying to rationalize? Isn't it you who gave up not too long ago because it was too hard?" The bitterness in Xander's voice could have cut cans in half.

"Angelus."

Xander nodded, pointing at the vampire on the bed who was now walking toward the bars. "Bingo! You just gave up and thought it would be okay when you had that meltdown that everyone would forgive you and forget. Well, my memory for history might be a bit muddled, but I'm not that muddled on my convictions.

Angel chuckled. "That sounds so funny coming from someone who could summon a musical demon."

Xander glared. "This is no laughing matter, Angel. Your indiscretion has caused me to rethink my tactics a bit."

Angel was almost pressed against the bars now, intrigued. "Regarding what?"

Xander thought for a moment of how best to put his explanation. "Basically, of the threat you are to everything I hold dear."

"I'm the biggest threat you can think of?" Xander blinked in response, as though Angel asking that question was an affront to his own logic. Angel sighed. "Okay, well, let's follow this train of thought I suppose. I mean, you have me locked in a ...yow." Angel stumbled backwards, landing at a sitting position on the bed.

"Oh yes," Xander stated matter-of-factly, "the bars are made from a wood that comes from a foreign country that becomes stronger when soaked in water. I may have made that holy water in your case. I don't want you going anywhere just yet."

Angel understood that only one of them would be leaving this room and Xander was only prepared for it to be himself. Angel knew that he could get to that man that came to him after Sweet so long ago, but he needed to bide time until he found Xander's Achilles heel. They all had them and Angel wasn't sure that Xander was strong enough to really kill him. Deep down, Angel believed that Xander loved him because he knew he loved Xander.

"So, we're gonna play this game? Not much imagination if you think I've never played convict and jailer before." Angel smirked seductively.

Xander chuckled. "Trying to disarm the tension with humor, cute. I wonder how Angelus disarms people. Maybe it's got to do with the scent, the carnality of the screaming. What would you say it is since you're so close...to the issue?"

Angel snorted. He knew that he had learned long ago not to hold himself accountable for what Angelus had done otherwise the guilt would have so much pressure behind it that his knees would buckle. "Angelus lived for the hunt, the torture. I'm not him."

Xander shook his head. "Well that was the wrong answer. I think you are him. I think you lie to yourself, to us, when you claim you aren't. I know this because of Buffy. I know this because of how casually you tossed away your team here and abandoned everything because you felt sorry for yourself."

"It was a lapse in judgment that I didn't fight. But you can't hold me accountable, because..."

Xander snarled. "Because why? Because you're human? Don't give me that shit. You're what...260 something now? You know better. You gave up because you didn't want to fight."

Angel snarled in return. "I had just lost my son!"

Xander shook his head. "So one son is the price for all humanity? God, I should stake you where you stand. But you deserve worse, and if I lose my soul in process then it'll be worth it to see you pay for all the hurt and the pain you inflict."

"Don't cry. You don't want this." Angel watched as rageful tears passed down Xander's cheeks. Something was getting through to him, past the rage.

"Shut up!" Xander retorted. "You don't know what I want and I'm pretty sure you never fucking cared as long as I towed the line and fixed your precious hotel."

Angel came up to the bars again, allowing his hands to blister on the wood. "That's not true."

Xander stared at Angel. "Does the wood hurt?"

Angel nodded. "I've gone through worse."

Xander hissed. "Tell me."

There was no point in lying to the boy. "Angelus was only a master at torture because of Darla, because of his father, because of the times and the Inquisition that never made it into the history books. It was a blank canvas of slaughter and superstition. My looks got me anywhere and my cruelty stayed my own hand. I didn't just love the hunt and the torture. I loved the darkness in my own soul. Is it details you want?"

"No. I want you to pay Angel."

Angel whispered. "What's the price?"

"My humanity."

Angel shook his head. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I have to."

"Why?"

Xander turned mean all of a sudden, pounding his fist at the air and mimicking a female voice. "Don't make a fuss, Xander! Let's send him the ring, Xander! Let's just let Buffy have her shining vampire in armor with no regrets, Xander! Let's not think of the future! Let's not plan for a day when he'll get tired of being good!"

Xander sunk down in a chair, visibly exhausted. Angel spoke hesitantly, taking his hands from the bars and watching his skin blister. "How long have you been holding that in?"

"Long enough. Makes me feel better to say my peace."

"Are you gonna kill me?"

"That seems to be the ultimate question. But no, you're gonna torture yourself. I'm gonna watch you dehydrate and then stake yourself on your bed."

"Why my bed?"

"Seems fitting. The bed got Jenny killed and who knows how many of my classmates."

"But how many more have we saved together?"

Xander shot up. "Together? Who are you kidding? You never even noticed me!"

Angel shook his head as the last of the blisters disappeared. "That's not true. After you came to me I realized that...."

"What? That I was a hopeless cause?"

"If you don't let me finish, you'll never get to hear that I love you."

Xander narrowed his eyes. "Shut up."

"I love you."

Xander came at the bars with a stake. Angel didn't move as Xander kicked the padlock in. The stake was inches from Angel's heart and Xander's hand was shaking. "What's stopping you? Don't you deserve the justice, don't I deserve the judgment?"

The rest of Xander began shaking. "Fuck you, Angel. You're protected by the losers upstairs who can't fight their own battles. If I kill you now, they win. If I don't kill you now, you win."

"You think that either way you're screwed."

Xander sighed and dropped the stake. "Eventually, yes." He motioned toward the door. "Just don't fucking tell me if you're gonna kill again." Xander then sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his shoes. He wasn't shaking any longer, almost calm enough to the point that Angel couldn't be sure if he was breathing. "Aren't you going to fucking go?"

Angel knew by the crack in Xander's voice that it was an impossibility this time. "Not this time. I can't go without fixing this."

"I'm not someone you can save."

Angel kneeled across from Xander, placing his hands on Xander's knee and looking him straight in the eye. "You so sure?"

Angel nodded and Xander failed to resist as Angel's body slid over his own and he felt Angel's lips upon his own.


End file.
